Sneering? Bless you!
by OliveB
Summary: How long can people tolerate Slytherins sneering at them? What if somebody found a cure for endless derision and invented it as a prank? And what would Snape think about it? Fifth year. Slightly AU. One-shot.


**Author's Note: Hello! It is my first try at fan fiction. English is not my first language, so if you catch any mistakes it would NOT surprise me. However, I would like to improve my skills, so please, be kind to point any mistakes out and I will mend them as fast as I can. I hope you will like this one-shot of mine inspired by some freakish rhyme I got banging inside my head yesterday.**

**Disclaimer: Uh, uh … You know, I would like to be free to speak otherwise, but nothing is mine, all belongs to J.K. Rowling (even this new little evil product of Twins, since their brains also belong to her), therefore I earn no money from this. My only gain would be from your reviews. A knut for your thoughts? **

It was around the middle of September, just after the first trip to Hogsmeade this year. Outside it was warm and sunny, first leaves already sparkling with intense colours and falling from the trees far in the Forbidden Forest. The Great Hall looked light and almost ethereal with warm rays of autumn sun trickling through high windows. Snowy white clouds were drifting across the enchanted ceiling with their shadows following them down on the stone floor. It was almost drowsy save for some usual buzz of conversations here and there amongst first students waiting for their breakfast.

Behind the Staff Table only few teachers were seated. Minerva McGonagall as stiff as usual, or even more, next to her Dolores Umbridge leering and looking over the scattered students smiling unpleasantly and at the same time sipping her morning tea from the tiny pink saucer with kittens and scowling Severus Snape. It was not unusual for him, he wore his everyday facial expression because he were extremely tired and sore after all-night brewing of many batches of healing potions for Poppy. And well, in spite of sitting near the stupid toad it was serene, there was no Dumbledore to twinkle at him, no Potter to torment him with his mixed Potter and Lily's appearance or, Merlin forbid, his ginger and know-it-all sidekicks chatting annoyingly. _Yet_. But there was something amiss. At the Gryffindor table there were seating two tall boys, two exact copies of the same person with ginger hair and freckles and mischievous glee in their eyes. But otherwise they were silent. And it was it. _Too silent._ Snape briefly narrowed his eyes. _Ah, … waiting, then._ He smirked and peeked cautiously at Umbridge. There were no signs of her knowing anything about coming … _issues_. He didn't know if he would be amused or furious. Jokes of evil twins could turn very nasty at times but also between his teaching, brewing and being a spy there was little if any entertainment left for him.

He was violently pulled from his musings by series of explosive sneezes. He looked up to see his Snakes trotting tiredly into the Great Hall, all of them gripping a handkerchief, every face flushed, every nose red. Every time one of them would try to sneer at students from other Houses, even faintly, they immediately got a violet sneezing fit. Umbridge narrowed her eyes at Gryffindors sitting innocently at their table, stupid little smiles on their faces the only indicator it was their working. Snape lifted his eyebrow. Students sitting at other tables seemed to be enjoying that too. That joke. _Prank._ A number of bitter memories shot through his mind at once. Then he saw one of his younger Slytherins hastily wipe a snot dangling dangerously from his reddened nose on the sleeve of his school robes. Snot. _Snivellus. _He saw red. But unfortunately he couldn't forget about the deplorable Inquisitorial Squad his students formed. _Bullies._ _Bullies!_ He was beyond furious. Enraged. With himself, with his House, with this wretched toad of a woman who brought her evilness into the Hogwarts walls, with Weasley twins for their so Marauder-like actions. He stood abruptly, guiding his fast steps toward dungeons, his cloak billowing ominously.

In the meantime in Gryffindor common room there was an ordinary commotion and racket made by extremely cheerful students. Some of them were even beyond proud of themselves. It could be expected as they have been just paid for testing the latest invention for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes on their trip to Hogsmeade the day before with beforehand convinced (with a small bribe) Madam Rosmerta to help them. What could be greater than a prank gone well? Oh, so, so well! On their way to portrait hole every one of them would glance in the direction of the inconspicuous bottle lying on the floor close to cosy armchairs by the fireplace, and smirk or grin. The bottle was not unlike the ones you drink butterbeer from. Some people could even make a mistake and take it for one. But under the Slytherin-confusing glamour there was a small red and gold label on it.

It read:

When you're exposed to Slytherins's sneer

And it is too much for you to bear

Make them the ones who have to fear

Whether anybody who lends an ear

Could hear their sneezing, noses being runny

And instead of supercilious being only funny

Make 'em drink the Sneezerin'Beer!


End file.
